Page 80 of Royal Captive
The ball disappeared from Strumo’s hand mid-throw, leaving him grasping at nothing. The look of rage and confusion on his face would have been satisfying to witness, but I was already gone, halfway across the pitch and diving into the first square I saw with three others whoweren’tStrumo.
The field had shrunk quite a bit—there were now ten empty squares.
I studied my new teammates: three fae, all of whom frowned at me when I entered their square. Those frowns quickly turned into feral grins.
“Begin,” the voice commanded.
I don’t know if the fae had gods or believed in any deities, but I thanked all of them as the black ball materialized in my square. The fae’s grins faded, turning into sneers.
Sweat snaked down my back as I held my own death in my hands. Thoughts raced through my head in a vicious whirl, the rules of the game playing on repeat over and over. I couldn’t play the game properly against the three fae in my box—not the way it was intended. They’d obliterate me in seconds.
Unless.
Running the rules of the game through my head, I took a calculated risk. The fae prided themselves on their ‘points of order’ and the rules of their games. As long as I followed those, it was fine. Well, as fine as it could be when your life was literally on the line.
Staring the other fae down, I didn’t bounce the ball. I didn’t do anything at all with it. I simply clutched onto it as though it were my only lifeline. Which, in a way, it was.
Terrified I would blow up any second, each moment ticked by in agonizing fashion. Yet each one that passed where I didn’t blow up, my confidence increased. I was right. I knew it.
The fae female on my left with bright blue hair fidgeted with her hands, agitated.
“Point of order!” she shrieked, not breaking her hateful glare at me.
A fae guard appeared by my side so suddenly I blanched, almost dropping the ball. Wouldn’t that have been ironic?
“A point of order has been called. Gameplay is paused.”
All around us, balls froze again.
The fae guard turned his frosty stare to the blue-haired fae. “What is your point of order?”
She pointed an accusing finger at me. “You can’t hold the ball! That’s against the rules! You must use a closed or open fist to keep it moving!”
The fae guard frowned heavily, turning toward me, heavily confused why I wasn’t yet a red smear on the ground.
I tensed, making sure my grip on the ball was firm. “Our round has not started,” I asserted. “The rules did not specify when the round must start. Before it starts, I can hold it as long as I want.”
The guard’s head tilted to the side, considering. “That you may.”
His gaze snapped to the blue-haired fae. “Accusations of false cheating will not be tolerated. This is your only warning. Game play resumes.”
The blue-haired fae’s mouth opened in shock. If I thought she’d stared at me hatefully before, it was nothing compared tothe pure rage directed at me now. I tried to ignore all of the BOOMS as balls were suddenly in play again.
“You little half-breed worm! That was my one warning for my entire sentence here!”
I took a step back from her fury. Never did I think I’d long for the safety of the iron bars of my cell, but as the mood in my square turned ugly, I doubted I would see it again.
I just had to keep clutching onto the ball.
“Why are you upset?” I asked instead. “If I hold the ball, none of us die.”
A fae male with who looked human except for his pointed ears and brown hair snorted.
“He has a point. I won’t complain about taking a sure win. The Hunt just happened. No sense in killing everyone now, eh?”
He turned his attention toward his fingernails, picking at the dirt underneath. Maliciously, I wondered what would have happened if I smashed the ball his way while he wasn’t paying attention.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
